It was so close, that she could see the particles of dust upon the glass window panes. Outside, the street lights glowed orange. She felt the darkness creeping nearer by distance; the darkness of solitude she was so familiar with. The silence which works, walking in tandem added insult to injury. People were from far, she closed her eyes trying to recognise the voice she knew by heart in the midst of whispers. But nowhere could assurance be found. Nothing came.
She knew how agony cures another; it is all feelings in the end. Since the start. Allow the flesh receive similar as the heart could bear, she would want to do, and with vengeance so sweet. Stealing is a crime, that when your heart could no longer throb in your body because it has been stolen.
It was the sound she had been yearning to hear, regardless the words. Substance has been long disregarded, the aftermath had took place by default. Everyone should know, but she knew better. She was enveloped with immense pleasure when she saw the blade penetrated the mass of soft meat, the splatter of blood which rained on her face, crimson. It was a toast of a celebration. Like how everything works, it is the death of one, with the birth of another. The person she knew well died that day when the heart was stolen away; the birth of another is one creature without a heart.
She has got the courtesy to change the sheets and clean the floor. As water washes away the blood, she realises she has a larger burden to dispose of now.